Sycamore Row - John Grisham

They looped twice around the square, then zigzagged a few blocks with Ozzie in the
lead and followed by the other cars. Ozzie was giving Dumas time to set up at the jail,
and when they arrived, the reporter was snapping away. Sistrunk and Buckley were
extracted from Ozzie’s car and led slowly along the front walkway and into the jail.
They were treated like all fresh arrestees—photographed, fingerprinted, asked a
hundred questions for the record, relieved of all belongings, and given a change of
clothes.
Forty-five minutes after raising the ire of the Honorable Reuben V. Atlee, Booker
Sistrunk and Rufus Buckley, in matching county jail overalls, faded orange with white
stripes on the legs, sat on the edges of their metal beds and looked at the black-stained
and dripping toilet they were expected to share. A jailer peeked through the bars of their
narrow cell and asked, “Get you boys anything?”
“What time is lunch?” Rufus asked.
With Bost banished to the jury box while his cohorts were being processed, the hearing
commenced and concluded with amazing speed. With no one present to argue for a
change of venue or removal of the judge, those motions were denied. The motion to
replace Jake with Rufus Buckley was rejected with hardly a word. Judge Atlee granted
the motions for a trial by jury, and gave the parties ninety days to begin and complete
discovery. He explained in clear language that the case had top priority with him and he
would not allow it to drag on. He asked the attorneys to pull out their calendars and
forced them to agree on a trial date of April 3, 1989, almost five months away.
He adjourned the hearing after thirty minutes and disappeared from the bench. The
crowd stood and began buzzing while the lawyers huddled and tried to confirm what
had just happened. Stillman Rush whispered to Jake, “I guess you’re lucky you’re not in
jail.”
“Unbelievable,” Jake said. “You wanna go visit Buckley?”
“Maybe later.”
Kendrick Bost led Lettie and her people off to a corner where he tried to assure them
things were going as planned. Most seemed skeptical. He and the bodyguard hurried
away as soon as possible and darted across the courthouse lawn. They jumped into the
black Rolls-Royce—the bodyguard was also the driver—and sped away to the jail. They
were told by Ozzie that visitation had not been approved by the court. Bost cursed, left,
and took off in the direction of Oxford, home of the nearest federal courthouse.
Dumas Lee cranked out a thousand words before lunch and faxed the story to a
reporter he knew at the Memphis paper. He also wired plenty of photographs. Later in
the day, he sent the same materials to the newspapers in Tupelo and Jackson.